


Shelter From The Storm

by TheFandomEater



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 12:37:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4625613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFandomEater/pseuds/TheFandomEater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since that night, Barry couldn’t stand lightning storms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shelter From The Storm

Barry could handle this.

If he could handle being beaten to a pulp by his mother’s murderer, he could handle a little storm. Ever since that night, Barry couldn’t stand lightning storms. As soon as he heard the first crack of lightning, he’d close in on himself, breath quickening as her death played over and over in his head.When Joe had found his eleven-year-old self near passing out, hidden under a desk during a storm, he took Barry to the hospital the next day. From there, he was referred to a child psychiatrist and, within one or two meetings he got his diagnosis: PTSD. Thankfully, there had only been fifteen storms involving lightning in the years following (it may seem strange to keep track, but they were hardly something he could forget

Now, of course, while Barry was working an important case with Oliver, was the perfect time for storm number sixteen. He thanked whatever gods were up there for it to have at least occurred before field work, but that couldn’t alleviate anywhere near all of his stress. He knew that Felicity, Diggle, and even Oliver would all be understanding if he explained it, but how exactly do you say “Hey guys, guess what; not only do I look and act like a middle-schooler; I piss my pants during storms too!”

Neither the thunder nor the lightning had started yet, but he could tell that the storm was not far off; not enough time to leave the Arrow Cave, or even to find a different room to seclude himself in without drawing attention. Instead, he decided to wait it out, recalling the last storm he was in before his transformation as being much less severe than years previous.

27 minutes later, he completely regretted that decision. The first crack of thunder called up memories of not only his mother’s death, but his own near-death experience with lightning as well. Barry tried to throw himself into his work as a distraction, but his hands had already shaking, and with super speed, small tremors turned into speed-of-sound vibrations. He tried to pick up the vial of blood from one of the metahuman-of-the-week’s victims, but his super-shivering flung it halfway across the room with a loud enough crash to draw Felicity’s attention.

“What the hell was that, Barry?” she asked, more surprised than angry.

“S-sorry, I guess I just—” His meak reply was cut off by the second thunder-strike. He jumped, and he really should have foreseen his new abilities causing problems, but as Felicity’s concerned face slowed down to the pace of an elderly snail, he realised that they made it impossible to hide his reaction to the storm. Forcing himself to slow back to normal, he tried to think of an explanation she’d believe. Too high-strung to think of a lie, he decided to say at least half the truth. “I’m not the b-biggest fan of storms.” Way to freaking understate it.

Clearly not fully satisfied, Felicity decided not to push it. “Okay, well you can put on some headphones if that’d make you feel more comfortable.” She placated, and Barry gratefully accepted the noise-cancelling pair she offered to him.

Finally able to focus, Barry sped through his work in a way only he could, completely unaware of the approaching lightning. While separating a sample with the spin of his hand, a process Felicity couldn’t help but watch, one of the lightning bolts finally hit close enough to flash in the window. Barry slipped his headphones off, froze, and Felicity, tried to comfort him.

“Oh, that’s just the lightning.” Seeing Barry’s eyes widen, she knew it’d been the wrong thing to say. His whole body started shaking—well, vibrating was more accurate—and she knew she had to do something to help.

Barry couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t think of anything besides his mother’s scream and suddenly being hurtled blocks away. His vision narrowed on something else—blonde hair, a gentle voice for him to cling to and he did, trying to pull himself out of his memories.

“—Barry! Barry can you hear me? That’s it, it’s me, Felicity; you’re safe.” Despite her thin veneer of calm, Felicity was panicking. As soon as Barry had started vibrating, he’d dropped to his knees, clutching his head as if somehow his hands could block whatever was happening. She briefly wondered if he was a photosensitive epileptic, but even she could recognise that this wasn’t seizing, just shivering except...really quickly. What causes shaking, fear, and hyperventilation following a specific event she thought, then wanted to slap herself when the answer immediately came to her: a panic attack. She continued talking in a gentle voice, keeping her hands lightly on his shoulders. After seconds that probably felt like minutes or maybe even hours to Barry in this state, he seemed to be returning to the real world, but his body kept vibrating even as his eyes cleared and focused.

“Now are you—do you think you’re okay? Well I mean, of course you’re not okay I can see you’re not okay but are you… Better?” She cut off her rambling and tried to gauge the answer herself as she waited for his response.

On any other day, Barry would have chuckled at the computer tech’s gambit, but in his current state all he could manage was a shaky nod. He knew the next crack of lightning would be twice as bad, and a childish part of him really wanted to tell Felicity, to let her hold him in her arms and make his mind slow down. Before he could decide whether or not to bare his soul, another lightning strike broke his present calm, picking and choosing the worst moments of that night to bring to the forefront of his mind with an almost careless precision. This time, as he pulled himself up from the dredges of his psyche by Felicity’s concerned voice, he knew the only way to spare her the worry was to tell her the truth.

Speaking took time and composure, however, so Barry spent minutes to steady his breathing, taking the simple comfort of Felicity’s presence. Eventually he was prepared, “Ever since th-that night, when my m-mom was… I’ve had these flash b-backs to the night whenever there’s a l-lightning storm;” As he paused, he glanced up from his hands to see Felicity’s sympathetic gaze. “Joe, he--he took me to a therapist, and I was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder.”

The desire to slap herself again came to mind for Felicity; she really should have put together that the two most traumatic events in Barry’s life happened during lightning storms, including physically being hit by lightning; of course it would freak him out. She pulled him into a hug and he reciprocated, his tremulous hands clasped around her back.

“I’m so sorry for not realizing sooner. Wanna get out of the lab?” A small nod from the head pressed into her shoulder was all she needed. “Okay, I’m gonna have to ask you to stand up, and you can go ahead and put the headphones back on. Then we’ll head to the Queen mansion and we can get situated in one of the basement rooms with no windows or anything. Sound good?” Not seeing much of a choice, he readily agreed and stood on unsteady feet, putting on the headphones Felicity held out to him. She guided him out of the lab and into her car. As she drove, she prayed there’d be no more lightning until they got to the mansion.

Her prayers were answered, and they got their without incident. When they got up to the door, she was a bit surprised to see Oliver himself answer it. He took one one look at Barry shaking and being held up by a clearly worn-down Felicity and immediately ushered them in, his eyes narrowed in concern.

“What happened?” He ground out in a voice with just a bit more concern than he would have liked.

As Felicity guided the cowering young man down to the basement level of the mansion, she gave Oliver one word in answer, “Lightning, “ and he pretended for now as if that explained it all. He helped get Barry situated on a couch in one of the closed-off room, taking notice of the cordless headphones he was sporting almost absent-mindedly. While Barry took his time calming down and drawing himself out of his storming head space, Oliver turned to Felicity again for answers.

“What’s going on? Is he okay?” He asked, and as Felicity gave him the run-down of the situation, his face softened. He’d had his own battles with PTSD, and it was hardly something he wanted his young friend to have to go through. Once Felicity was finished, there was only one thing on his mind; “How can I help?”

At this, Felicity gave a tired shrug, and he took in just how much of a toll this was taking on her. “Why don’t you sit down. I got this.” he suggested, giving her one of his more reassuring smiles. She returned a tired smile of her own and sat in an armchair near the couch. Oliver sat beside Barry, making no move to touch him until the speedster was lucid enough to say he wanted contact. Thunder rumbled on as Barry slowly evened his breathing and the flashes of his mother’s attack, then her body, then his father being taken away in a squad car slowly faded away. Eventually, he slid the headphones off and took in his location and company.

“O-olie?” While the nickname normally irritated him, now it brought a small smile of relief to Oliver’s face to hear Barry speaking after being nearly catatonic.

Still, he tried to maintain his usual composure as he responded. “You’re at the mansion. Felicity brought you here because of the lightning. You’ll be staying here until the storm passes.” Oliver knew that Barry could have recalled this information on his own, but he’d always found it grounding to be informed of the situation after particularly violent or extended flashbacks. Barry had visibly relaxed at this information, so it seemed to be a comfort for him as well.

“S-so, this room; windowless?” Barry questioned as he surveyed his surroundings.

Oliver nodded. “The basement rooms were made largely for privacy reasons, since the mansion was made with public image in mind.”

Barry may have been anxious still, but making conversation was helping ground him. His utterance of “Wonderful weather we’re having.” didn’t get quite the response he was looking for, but groans were always appreciated (he felt they were the measure of true humour).

After more small talk, they lapsed into a comfortable silence, Barry completely forgetting his headphones. When he heard the familiar roll of thunder and a sharp crack, he cursed his forgetfulness as his body was again set on edge. The concerned faces of his friends slowed as he started shaking again, no longer connecting to his memories and instead just reliving the feelings of helplessness and fear, his breathing becoming more labored; oh god, he couldn’t breathe—

Firm hands on his shoulders slowed his dangerous thoughts. Oliver moved closer to him on the couch, one of his hands slowly sinking to meet Barry’s, grasping it and pulling it to his own steady chest.

“Follow my breathing, Barry,” He didn’t really see how that could happen seeing as he couldn’t breathe but he tried his best, listening to the steady in and out of Oliver’s breaths and eventually matching pace with him. His thoughts cleared enough for him to register the tears trailing down his cheeks, but he could still focus on the stoney blue eyes before him; so different from Felicity’s casual warmth and humour carried in hers, yet still holding the same concern, the same love.

Eventually he calmed down, and he felt Felicity slipping the noise-canceling headphones back over his ears before sidling up next to him on the other side of the couch. Sensing Felicity could now take over the comforting, Oliver made to move away, but Barry clung to his hand, mumbling “Stay.” A slight blush crept up his cheeks as he said it but Oliver obliged, staying right beside him and rubbing slow circles on his back as Felicity held his other hand. Surrounded people he loved, and blocked off from the raging storm outside, Barry soon succumbed to the exhaustion that had slowly crept over him after every flashback and drifted to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this quite a while ago and never typed it up, so here you go! I'll update when I can, but they'll probably be shorter than this one. The title is from the song of the same name by Bob Dylan  
> Edit: I decided I like this as a one-shot, so a one-shot it will stay :)


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